It's possible
by Lifes-eternal
Summary: Rory and Tristan get paired up for an 'Economics' project in which they uncover the hidden truths about each others life's.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. I do not own Gilmore Girls, nor the passage from Jane Eyre in the beginning of this chapter.

AN: This will be the first posted piece I've done, I hope you like it. Basically Rory and Tristan get paired up for an Economics project in which they uncover the hidden truths about each others life's. :) R/R

Rated: T

Chapter : Fickle finger

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'Oh, you are indeed there, my sky-lark! Come to me. You are not gone: not vanished? I heard one of your kind an hour ago, singing high over the wood: but its song had no music for me, any more than the rising sun had rays. All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane's tongue to my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.'

With a sigh Rory closed her book with a thump as the coffee maker purred to life beside her. Gingerly pushing her chair back and stepping towards the cabinet, she paused briefly, flitting her eyes towards the window. She gazed wistfully out, looking, but not really seeing. Her mind had been doing that to her a lot lately.

Slowly regaining her composure at the sound of feet prancing down the stairs, she resumed her task as her hand wrapped around the pop-tart package. Quickly un-wrapping them and placing them in the toaster beside her; she made quick work of grabbing two coffee mugs and placing them next to the brewing coffee pot.

"Again, babe?" Lorelai questioned with a frown.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so; Only this time I truly have a reason for getting little, to no sleep." She stated , a hint of raillery in her voice.

"How was I suppose to know a marathon of The Patty Duke show would scare you?"

"You should have just known, your my mother after all."

"Ha" she laughed pointing a finger towards her "So I've led you to believe."

Pouring the steaming coffee into a mug and handing it towards her mother with a smile, she exhaled "Sometimes I wonder whose raising who."

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Sleep was eluding her. She knew eventually it would start to wear her down, but for now she was fine with just getting by on the bare minimum. Especially if getting by meant not having to approach Tristan. Seeing as how he was the cause of so many of her sleepless nights. No, it was nothing dirty. However, that didn't stop the blush from slowly creeping up her face, resting as cute rosy patches on her cheek. Thinking about him always made her blush. No, this was much worse then a dirty Tristan, this was a sad Tristan. A broken Tristan. A pulverized Tristan. Ok, so maybe she was getting ahead of herself, he probably didn't even care, or remember. She on the other hand couldn't forget. How could she have said she "Hated" him. Hate is such a strong word. At the time, she had said it with such force, such conviction, she herself had almost believed it. She didn't of course, but something about the way those three words resonated in her ear that day, made her want to cry, right then, and there.

"Oomph" One false move in the hallways of Chilton and you were a goner. I'm guessing tripping on your own shoelace, books flying every which way, and you yourself landing with a less then lady like grunt at the feet of the "king", the one and only cause for this trance like state "Tristan" wasn't such a good thing, nor a very yearbookish moment.

"Well, well, well, Mary. Falling at my feet already?" Smirking he reached down and started to help her up.

Something about his tone, and the fact that he (although it was unbeknownst to him) was the real reason for her current quandary forced her to snap, seething with anger

"God Tristan, was your mother even married when you were born?"

"Are you Mary" he bellowed, adding an emphasis on Mary "calling me a bastard?"

"Hey, you said it, not me, but yes; I am. What of it?"

"I" Just as he was about to reply, the shrill noise of the bell ringing pulled him from his obvious enraged stupor.

"Later Mary; And I do mean later." He rounded the corner with a familiar hand through the hair maneuver.

God, he infuriated her so much. Picking up the rest of her fallen books, she weaved her way through the throng of students towards her first class. Economics. Oh, and yeah, Tristan was in this class. Albeit a very pissed of Tristan; But a Tristan none the less.

"Settle down everyone, settle down. Today were going to be starting a new project, and before you start groaning, I want you to note that this assignment will be worth 30 percent of this quarters grade. Now while I know some of you might think 30 percent, that's nothing, I can assure you, it is. It truly is. Now, I'm going to give you all an assigned partner. Each of you in turn will have to pick a family member, for your partner will be interning with them. Lets pair up, and then I'll continue with the instructions. Paris, and Brad. Louise and Brian. Rory and Tristan."

And suddenly at that very moment, Rory couldn't remember a single reason for wanting to apologize for what she said. Some how this was all his fault, she just knew it was.

How on earth was she suppose to be civilized with him long enough to get through this project, let alone, meet, and INTERN for his family. Not to mention him working at the inn with her mom. What a fickle finger fate had. Yes, a very fickle finger.

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It was short...but I was hoping to accomplish a few things with this chapter. One, find a beta, two see how people respond to the actual story, and three get a feel for writing again. I hope you liked it :)

LE


	2. PI

Hey everyone, thanks so much for your reviews, they mean the world to me. ;) Heres the next installment.

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How was it possible that one little sentence, not even a sentence really…just three words strung together, expel both pleasure and a throbbing ache inside him. The latter with out much warning; Just a gut wrenching pain, leaving him equally breathless and reeling. Three words; two nouns, and an ampersand. 'Rory and Tristan'.

Obviously, the fact that he got to work with Rory was music to his ears. But, if Rory being coerced into working, and socializing with his father was the current play list, he was putting on a cd. A very, very different Cd.

For it would be wholly unjustified to believe that the Dugrey fortune was earned on the backs of the fastidious nature of pleasant conversations, and flawless respectability. Yes, they were respected. Minor detail, Tristan mused. Dugrey respect had more semblance akin to fear. He could not, nor, would not, allow his Mary to become just another sycophant running around doing his fathers bidding.

Rory was an enigma, one he was doing his damndest to get to know. She wasn't making things easy on him. Albeit he probably was not doing that either. He knew she thought of herself as a conquest. He could see it in her eye. In her seething anger, that glint of malice he saw today only proved it. It proved something else too though. That despite everything she claimed to the contrary, he was getting to her. He liked that. However sadistic that sounded. He wanted her to think about him, even if only for a fleeting moment.

He walked the seemingly hollowed hallways, swaying his head left and right rhythmically to the reverberating sound of his footsteps permeating the halls; he was on a mission. A mission he was sure better men had both tried, and failed. He was in search of a girl. Not just any girl as one might conclude after hearing his name, and reputation. This was a particular breed of girl; some, including him, might say the perfect girl; He was in search of Rory.

She had been skillfully avoiding him all afternoon, much to his chagrin. The one time he actually had something of substance to offer her in lieu of his usual sexually repressed banter, she decided to turn chameleon and disappear on him. He'd been to the cafeteria twice already expecting her to be their, it almost seemed a given; to no avail though. He also had checked both the library and the newspaper room; he was starting to run out of ideas.

Hearing the sound of another person's footstep, he slowed his pace to that of a turtle stuck in a jar of peanut butter. Turning his body slightly to appease himself with a view of his companion; he chuckled lightly, giddy at the prospect of it being Rory.

His eyes scanned the hall just in time to catch sight of her chestnut hair billowing behind her as she attempted to retreat into the nearest classroom with out him taking notice. Oh, but he saw. Turning on his heels, he languidly made his way towards her proverbial rabbit hole.

"It's too bad my father isn't a Private Eye, your pretty good at being allusive."

"Or your sleuthing skills just aren't what they used to be" she quipped, lowering her shoulders in defeat.

"Touché" She obviously could not contain the smile at his word, because here she was beaming up at him with a thoroughly kissable smile. Wait…what was it he wanted to find her for, he could not quite seem to remember.

"So, did you want something? Or are you just going to stand their gaping like an idiot all afternoon, because frankly, I have far more important things to do then be enrolled in one of your male fantasies."

His mind still a little foggy from her previous action he corrected her with "female fantasies. Wait, what?"

"Tristan" she clucked disapprovingly, simultaneously stamping her foot.

He offered a small smile in return as his mind began to break free of the haze. He did not get like this; he didn't know what was going on. He had never been the kind of person to lose his cool in front of girl, and yet here he was being reduced to nothing more then a jackass.

"I wanted to talk to you about this project," He finally spluttered.

"Ok" she questioned, "what about it?"

The warning bell signaling the end of lunch rang causing Tristan to glare disdainfully at the ceiling. What perfect timing he seemed to have.

"Maybe I can drive you home after school, we could talk about the project then" he questioned imploringly. Maybe it was his pathetic plea, that caused her to nod her head, or maybe it was a last ditch effort to maneuver herself around him and out the door. Either way, he was driving her home after school, and he could not be happier. As the late bell rang, he laughed. On the other hand, maybe he could be.

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School was out, and once again, Rory was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he leaned his back up against the locker next to hers, hoping she would end up here eventually. Almost instantly, she rounded the corner, laughing at something she was reading in her book. He took this moment to study her through have lidded eyes. She truly was a vision. Maybe if he was anyone else she might see something good in him. Hell maybe then he would see something too. He longed for something about himself that did not make his insides turn. He was playing a part, being the person everyone expected him to be, and he hated it.

He could not admit that though, he was a Dugrey, Dugrey men never showed signs of weakness. At least his father would use that word. He however would use compassion.

He frowned at the very idea. He never told anyone this but so much of his life was spent wishing to be someone else, anyone else.

Glancing up she caught his eye, and smiled slightly. Placing her bookmark into its correct place, she closed her newest fascination with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Deftly spinning in her combination, she turned to him with a look of annoyance. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Starring at me, I can feel your eyes boring into me, and it's kind of creepy."

"Come on, you know you like it. Here, let me take those" he reached out taking the stack of books from her, as her other hand swung back towards her locker grabbing her bag from its hook.

"Thanks" she replied closing her locker and turning herself towards the exit.

Upon reaching the door, she frowned slightly, halting her movements.

"What, what's the matter?" He questioned, slightly worried.

Pushing the doors open, and holding it for him, he instantly seemed to understand, as the sound of rain pelting the pavement rang in his ears.

For some foreign reason, she reached out pulling his hand towards her, interlocking them as she stepped forward. "Let's make a run for it." With that, she was off. He had no choice but to follow. Not that he minded. He loved how willingly she had grabbed his hand. How sure and natural it seemed to come to her.

Reluctantly he dropped her hand and slid himself into the driver seat.

"I know I said I'd take you home, but would a detour kill you?"

"Probably not…but I might."

"What if the detour involved dry clothes…and Coffee?"

"Id say forget the clothes, just get me the coffee."

"Believe me, I have no problem forgetting clothes, I just figured we wouldn't rush it, but hey, whatever you want baby" He smirked salaciously towards her.

"Just drive towards the coffee, Bible Boy."

"Anything you want, Mary."

With a rev of his engine and a quick mirror check he was off.


End file.
